She said she was sorry
by Guinevere81
Summary: The victims of abusive relationships are not always fragile little women who are unable to defend themselves. John ends up taking more than he should from his new girlfriend. Sherlock initially finds it amusing but gets increasingly concerned as things progress. I suspect the chapters will end up longer and longer, they start off short.
1. Chapter 1

The first time it happened John made no pretence to hide it. He didn't know he would need to and neither did Sherlock. They had both laughed it off.

Sherlock can tell from the sound of his footsteps on the stairs that the date has not gone well. For the past month John has been coming home from his dates with his new girlfriend with a spring in his step. Today his steps are hesitant, slower than usual.

Therefore Sherlock looks up from his research when John enters and is surprised to see that a bruise is spreading across John's cheek. 'What happened to your face?' he asks, mildly curious.

'Got in a fight.' John says, blushing slightly. Sherlock returns his attention to the computer with a slight smirk saying 'I hope you gave as good as you got.'

John's response is more than a little effective in retrieving Sherlock's attention to their conversation. 'I would never hit a woman' he says turning toward the kitchen.

Sherlock abandons his research and turns his whole attention on his flatmate. 'She did that? Lucy, Lana, whatever, she hit you?'

John keeps his back to Sherlock and busies himself with the kettle 'Laura, her name is Laura, and yes.'

Sherlock watches John silently as he makes tea and hands him a mug. 'Laura', he thinks, he won't be deleting her again. 'Not as boring as your usual girlfriends' he states and John chuckles… 'Oh great, you like your women when they turn violent I should have known, after Irene'

Sherlock scoffs but says nothing, and the evening ends on a high note… and really John is probably at least partially right, women with a temper are more interesting than Johns usual choice of bland girlfriends.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks later a suspect threw John to the ground and he cried out in an unusually loud manner. Sherlock caught the man and cuffed him within seconds and crouched next to his friend who was already starting to sit up.

'Are you hurt? You sounded like you were in pain.' Sherlock ran worried hands over John's arms and chest checking for possible injuries. When he reached John's right hand he found his friend flinching away which gave him all the sign he needed. He pulled up John's sleeve to find an unpleasantly swollen but not broken right wrist.

It had dark bruises covering the outside which was partially fading and turning yellow indicating that the injury was not recent but had in fact been there for a couple of days. The discolouration was so obvious it was laughable, fingers wrapped harshly around the wrist, pulling with considerable force, but why?

'John, what happened?' he asked as he ran gentle fingers over the injured arm.

'It's nothing, I'm fine' John tried pulling away but Sherlock persisted. 'You are going to tell me what happened' he urged trying to be gentle with John's injured wrist.

'It was an angry patient that's all. He hit me when I tried to help him' John shivered slightly when Sherlock's hands brushed over the bruise on his arm but made no noise. Sherlock nodded hesitantly accepting the excuse but not believing it. John hadn't been hit, he had been grabbed and jerked forward, of that Sherlock was certain.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks later John arrives home with a slight bruise across his cheek and Sherlock knows that something is wrong. Not just wrong, very wrong, and he is fairly sure that the root of the problem is John's new girlfriend and the strange proximity of John's dates with her and the mysterious appearance of his new and frankly unpleasant injuries. The fact that John claims that his bruised cheek is due to a collision with a door at work only encourages Sherlock's deductions. Walked into a door, John's excuses aren't even inventive.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Sherlock noticed that something is not quite alright with his flatmate they are running at full speed through Soho. John never normally has any problem keeping up with Sherlock but this time he is lagging behind and when Sherlock, forced to give up the chase as he can no longer deduce in which direction the suspect has disappeared, finally stops he notices the strain on John's face.

'You're in pain, what happened?' he asks searching his memory of the past few days trying to find any obvious reason why John is panting and clutching at his side.

'It's nothing, just a stitch.' John straightens up forcing himself not to wince and Sherlock does not believe him for a second.

Half an hour later as they are entering the flat Sherlock made his move. 'You're getting out of shape…' he says and playfully pokes a finger into John's side. 'Ow' John exclaims flinching away from Sherlock. He glowers at Sherlock but knows he has been beaten.

'Show me.' Sherlock states firmly leaving no room for argument and with a sigh John slips his sweater off and starts to unbutton his shirt. 'It looks worse than it is, honestly' John is clearly awkward as he slips out of his shirt to reveal his bruised skin to Sherlock's examining gaze.

Several bruises Sherlock notes, in various stages of healing. The one on John's side being the largest and most recent. But there are others a blue welt just at the side of John's shoulder. Yellow fingers snaking around John's arms, those must be old and there is slight swelling to John's elbow, almost invisible but Sherlock is perceptive. 'Laura.' He states and John's eyebrows go up 'You remembered her name, nice to know that using me as her personal punching bag makes her more memorable than my other girlfriends'

There is irony in John's voice but Sherlock does not laugh.

'Any broken ribs? Did you have them x-rayed?' he asks prodding slightly at John's bruised side.

'No, they're not broken, just bruised. Yes they hurt but provided I avoid sprinting through London, after thugs it will be fine. It was just the excessive movement that got to me and breathing that deeply isn't a great idea.' John actually smiles and tries to step away.

Sherlock doesn't let him, 'Why do you let her do this to you?' he asks instead as he carefully stops John from getting dressed again, his fingers dust gently over John's exposed skin, tracing the outline of each bruise.

'She's funny, and pretty, and when she's not in one of her black moods she really is very kind' John's words are uncharacteristically quiet. 'She has no other coping mechanism. Her dad beat her and her mum to a pulp when she was little. It's all she knows. She's agreed she needs to see someone. I've tried to find her a therapist, but they've all turned out to be too expensive or not to her liking.' John's voice is a little more solid as he outlines his attempts to help Laura, whom Sherlock is swiftly beginning to rename 'the Harpy' in his own head.

'You have to end this John. Get her help if you feel you need to but don't let her do this to you.' Sherlock's words are stern and forceful and he can feel how John pulls back slightly at his remark.

'We've already talked about it' John's words are hesitant and slightly defensive. 'She was so apologetic when I asked her to stop, but I… I am going to end things… it's just not that easy' Sherlock shakes his head. Unable to really understand where John is coming from but pleased to hear that his friend is planning on ending this clearly disastrous relationship.


	5. Chapter 5

Things reach a turning point the day that John comes home with his hand heavily bandaged and a very unpleasant haunted look in his eye. Sherlock had expected him not to come home, he was so late back from his date so when at half past midnight John walks through the door with a tightly wrapped hand and a posture that speaks of calculated restraint Sherlock knows instantly that something is wrong.

'What did she do this time?' Sherlock asks without getting up but his attention is firmly fixed on his flatmate.

'You're right. I'll have to end this.' John says, his gaze still far away.

While this pleases Sherlock he is rather concerned by the flat voice and lack of proper response to his question from John. ' John tell me, unless you want me to deduce it in which case I can start with the smell of disinfectant and the…'

'Stop…' John snaps in a voice that is bordering on shouting. 'She stopped by the clinic…' John is looking down at his bandaged hand as he speaks, avoiding looking Sherlock in the eyes. 'She walked in as I was congratulating Sarah on this award she's getting and she got the wrong end of the stick. It makes sense… I mean she knows about Sarah and me… that we used to date… she….' John faltered a little looking out the window at the traffic moving outside their flat. 'I took her aside to calm her down… I'd been removing a splinter from a boy's foot and it was just lying there…'

John's response is slow and hesitant and Sherlock takes matters into his own hands. 'She cut you, with a scalpel, one you had just used on a patient. You're not worried about disease so a healthy, young patient. But she did cut deep. You're in pain and you had to go to A&E. She cut you across the palm, judging by the bandage. No, palm and then outside of the wrist. Defensive wounds…' Sherlock looks quizzically at John who firmly refuses to look him in the eye.

'You don't need to lecture me Sherlock, and don't say I told you so. I've had quite enough for one day.' John pleads as he shrugs out of his coat and hangs it over the side of his chair. Sherlock looks on in fascination as John turns and disappears up the stairs. The edge of the sleeve on John's jumper is cut and the fabric is stained a deep red which is slowly turning a rusty brown. It has been rolled up to keep the blood off the bandages but the coat has pulled it down somewhat and the top of the bandage has stained slightly.

Sherlock isn't quite sure if he finds it fascinating or horrifying. He can tell that John is hurting and he feels bad for his friend but at the same time John's stoic acceptance of the pain inflicted on him is intriguing. He has seen this kind of acceptance of abuse at a distance before but never in such close proximity, it is almost like an experiment has been handed to him on a plate, except John doesn't like to be experimented on.

Sherlock has had two cases with Lestrade where domestic abuse had been contributing factors in the motive behind the murder. On one occasion it had been the father of the abused party who had committed the murder. Sherlock feels anger stir in his chest and something unfamiliar twitches at the sight of John's pained movements and sad eyes. He wonders fleetingly; if this goes on, will he one day want to murder Laura in order to keep her away from John? He is not John's father of course but for the first time he understands the motives of that man on more than a theoretical level.

At least this time John had said he knew he needed to end things so maybe a resolution to the situation was close at hand.


	6. Chapter 6

When John doesn't break up with Laura after the incident with the scalpel Sherlock gets into an argument with him over it. The day John comes back with his hand no longer bandaged, a nasty scar snaking across his palm but a smile on his face and announces that Laura has a surprise planned so Sherlock shouldn't expect him home Sherlock snaps.

If you're a masochist I don't mind whipping you chained to your bedpost until you cry in agony but at least let me do it safely, because _this_ is not safe.' Sherlock yells grabbing John's scarred hand and making him wince as he pulls at the recently healed wrist. He pulls John's fingers open forcing his friend to look at the still painful line running across his palm.

John gasps and tries to pull his hand back but Sherlock's grip tightens forcefully. 'Sherlock, you're hurting me.' John pleads trying to bend Sherlock's fingers away with his other hand.

'I thought you liked that.' Sherlock spits venomously and a look of hurt flashes across John's eyes.

Something shifts in John's gaze and his stance goes from slightly cowering to ram rod straight and then he swiftly punches Sherlock in the face with his free hand. It's his right hand and not as strong as it would have been if he had been using his dominant hand but it still makes Sherlock reel backwards, releasing John as his hands fly up to instinctively protect his face.

John glares angrily at Sherlock. 'Unlike someone I know Laura never uses emotional blackmail, she never assumes to be the centre of my attention and if she hurts me she actually apologises so fuck off and get some perspective.' John yells and without so much as picking up his jacket he storms out of the flat leaving Sherlock stood frozen in the middle of the floor, cheek throbbing and mind reeling.

John's words swirl in his mind and he is reminded of Baskerville. Of snapping at John that he doesn't have friends and the way John had stormed off afterwards. The strange panic he felt at seeing John run off, leaving to be with the woman who was bound to hurt him again made Sherlock's insides squirm just like it used to when he would steal treats from the pantry even as he knew that mummy would find out soon enough.

John does come back that night, despite whatever surprise Laura had for him but he doesn't speak to Sherlock. Instead he locks himself in his room and ignores Sherlock's texts. Sherlock can tell that John is hurting, he avoids being in the same room as Sherlock and when he has to in order to pick up a book or make a cup of tea he moves stiffly. What Sherlock can't deduce is if the awkward movement and the staying away is a way to avoid Sherlock or a way to hide the fact that he has been hit again. He isn't sure it really matters.

This goes on for two days and on the third John's heading off to work without a word prompts Sherlock to actually ask for help, something he is loath to do.

**What do you do when you have a friend who is being physically abused, who will not end the relationship when they accuse you of being more abusive than their abusive partner? SH**

He looks at the message and cringes… it sounds like he's writing to an agony aunt but then he supposes that in a way he is. He hesitates as to who to send it to and in the end decides that if he's going to make a prat out of himself he might as well do it properly and so he enters three numbers. Lestrade, Molly and in a moment of desperation Mycroft. It is no more than thirty seconds before his phone pings with a response.

**Report the abuse to the police and learn some manners, and stop pestering me with trivialities. MH**

Sherlock sighs, why he expected anything like useful advice from his brother he never knew. Then the phone pings again.

**If the victim is important text me details. Name and address of victim and perpetrator, I'll put someone on it. Is it the landlady? We have no record of current partners. MH**

Sherlock blinks for a moment, almost about to consider the possibility that Mycroft actually cares, but then the phone bleeps again and he pushes that thought away, though he stores Mycroft's offer of assistance away in an easily reached drawer in his mind palace. Then he opens the next message.

**Is this for a case or do you genuinely want to know for someone you care about? GL**

**Not a case. SH**

**Oh shit, is it someone I know? Is it Molly? I'll come around after work, we'll find a solution, John will surely help. I'll text him have him join us. GL**

**NO. Don't text John. I'll come to your office at five. SH**

Sherlock sends off as fast as he can staving off disaster. He can't imagine what John would say if he knew Sherlock was discussing his predicament with Lestrade.

Finally Molly's reply arrives, almost fifteen minutes after Sherlock had sent his request.

**Talk to her. Support her. Try to get her to report him. You're a good friend Sherlock. I always knew you were. There are support networks. I can get you details. If she wants to speak to a woman give her my number. I'll call you tonight, or are you coming in this afternoon as you said you might? Molly.**

Sherlock shook his head. In his line of work statistics and stereotyping were essential but there was still something rather interesting about the fact that all three individuals he had asked for help in this case had assumed the victim to be a woman and the perpetrator a man. Sherlock wondered slightly if he would have assumed the same if he had heard that request and hadn't seen the bruises John tried to hide all the time. After all, he had assumed that Harry was John's brother the first time they had met.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock never makes his meeting with Lestrade. That very afternoon as he is heading off to Bart's he receives a text from John.

**Stay out of the flat for an hour or two after 6pm. Ending it with Laura. You owe me the privacy. JW**

Sherlock is torn between being pleased and bewildered. Of course he wants John to get rid of the harpy as soon as possible. Yet as soon as possible really seems advisable. How can it possibly take an hour or two to tell someone you never want to see them again?

Still knowing John that is probably not how he will phrase it. Sherlock wishes he would though, clean and neat, no unnecessary emotions. Just no more Laura and no more John being not quite John.

Sherlock spends a satisfying few hours at Bart's trying out the effect of various brands of kitchen knives on male and female genitalia. Molly even brings him coffee willingly and doesn't as much as cringe at the gruesome experiment he is performing. She does however try to bring up the text he had sent but to his great relief Sherlock is able to brush it under the carpet with an evasive 'oh, that, forget it, it's being dealt with. Are you sure you put two sugars in this?' Waving the mug of coffee in the air.

Returning home from Bart's at half past seven Sherlock hopes he has given John enough time to deal with his now hopefully ex-girlfriend. He wonders if he should try to take John out for dinner to cheer him up or just leave him be. There is there is silence in the flat so he assumes that at least the offending woman has departed.

It is a surprise to find that the kitchen is in a complete state of disarray. A chair is upturned and the pile of papers which had previously resided on its seat are strewn across the floor. A broken wine bottle lies among them and its contents are splashed in sprays and pools among the papers. More disturbingly there are darker thicker stains which are clearly the result of someone waving a bleeding appendage around. Sherlock doesn't need his deductive powers to tell who has most likely been doing the bleeding. It's become a too frequent occurrence.

That uncomfortable churning feeling from before returns to Sherlock's stomach and he has just opened his mouth to call out for John when the sound of retching comes from the bathroom and he throws himself around the table, reaching the bathroom in record time.

John is on his knees in front of the toilet struggling to breathe as he retches into the toilet. He is drenched in red wine and smells appalling but the blood flowing from a deep gash on the side of his head is what catches Sherlock's attention.

"John, what happened?" he pushes a towel against Johns bleeding head forcing the man to sit back. Sherlock cringes at the stupidity of the question, he knows what happened really, he just hopes that having John tell him will be quicker than having to deduce the details.

"She brought wine, she didn't get it, so she brought wine" John winces and shies away from Sherlock's touch. His eyes are unfocused and Sherlock is seriously beginning to worry about his flatmate's health. John is no orator but he is usually more articulate than this.

"John, are you hurt anywhere else?" Sherlock asks as he frantically runs his hands over his friend's shoulders and neck checking for any worse injuries than the bleeding gash on his head. John carefully lifts his hands up for Sherlock's perusal revealing a pattern of deep uneven cuts across his forearms. So that is the cause of the blood splatter, yes it fits with the way John will sometimes throw his arms up to emphasise a point when he's really angry.

"From the bottle" John states calmly "It hurts." He adds, his voice wavering uncharacteristically but he steels himself against both the pain and the sight of the blood dripping down his arms, after all, freaking out is hardly going to help. Unfortunately his determination is not enough to keep the shock and concussion at bay and he promptly passes out slumping into the arms of his worried flatmate.

"Shit…" Sherlock curses "John wake up, look at me." He pats the side of John's face like he's seen John do before when one of the new yarders had fainted at a crime scene. It had worked then but it isn't doing the trick now. John's eyes remain stubbornly shut.

Sherlock is frustrated to hear the hint of panic in his own voice as he calls for an ambulance and puts them on hold, despite their insistence that he keep talking to them, so that he can shoot off text messages to Mycroft and Lestrade.

**Need your help, John's been hurt, private room and visiting ** to his brother

**Arrest John's girlfriend for attempted murder as soon as possible SH** to Lestrade

Mrs Hudson comes running up the stairs with surprising speed behind the ambulance medics looking very worried. Standing at the door to the bathroom with hands clasped over her mouth she watches as the medics pry John's unmoving body from Sherlock's panicked grasp. She offers no direct comfort merely standing there watching as the medics wrap John's arms in bandages and lift him onto a transferable gurney. They pinch and rub at John calling his name and get the response that Sherlock had failed to. John opens his eyes briefly and mumbles his name and address obediently before closing them again.

"Sherlock, what happened?" Mrs Hudson asks softly but is silenced as Sherlock's phone chimes to life and he picks it up.

'Lestrade, did you not get my message?' he barks angrily as he follows the medics out of the bathroom. 'John broke up with his girlfriend today, I returned home to find him concussed and bleeding hence you should arrest her as soon as possible…. No you don't need John's testimony, mine is quite good enough' He forcefully ended the call in time to climb into the ambulance behind John. Mrs Hudson stood on the pavement, stunned into silence and watched as the ambulance pulled out and made its way to the nearest emergency room.

John comes to again in the ambulance but he's confused and unfocused. One of the medics tries to get him to breath in an alcometer and Sherlock snags it out of her hand angrily. 'He's not drunk, he's concussed. Why do you think he passed out?' he growls at the poor woman.

'I don't think there is any doubt that there was alcohol involved in whatever fight he found himself in. Seeing as you're not equally drenched in wine I assume it wasn't with you?' She spits back at him as she grabs his wrist to pry the alcometer out of his hand.

'Disturb us again and we will have the ambulance stopped and you removed. You are not our concern, your friend is.' She says with a frown and though it irks him Sherlock allows her to press the implement against John's lips. He is childishly pleased when John does not have the strength to breath long enough to give a reading and she is forced to take a blood sample again. He knows he shouldn't be pleased with this but in a way that it seems that John, even injured and confused is agreeing with Sherlock and putting up a bit of a fight. At least that is how he will interpret it, because that would be nice, and the alternative is something he prefers not to think about.

Instead he sits down, and shuts down. His mind is filled with information that can inform this scenario. There are statistics on head trauma and blood loss. There are legal accusations and defences related to physical abuse of various kinds. There are conviction rates and, finger prints, and word of mouth and as long as he keeps John out of it he can turn this into a case. It will be dull and boring, so obvious it doesn't even deserve a rating, but because there is so much evidence it will take some time to file it all, and boring or not, it is the first case in which a conviction has ever really mattered to Sherlock.


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock is surprised at how fast John seems to recover. By the time they reach UCH John is conscious again and providing facts about politicians and celebrities that Sherlock has never heard of. A doctor meets them almost straight away and John is taken off to have his head scanned, leaving Sherlock sitting alone in the waiting room trying to figure out if the reason every instance of blunt force trauma with a bottle that he can remember has ended in the victim's death is because death is a foregone conclusion or because if they had survived he had not been interested.

Having long since worked his way through all relevant data in his mind palace Sherlock was sat in the waiting room watching and deducing the various ailments of the people waiting to be seen when Lestrade arrived at the hospital. He has washed his hands but his shirt is still covered in blood making the patients eye him with wary concern.

'Christ Sherlock. You look a fright. How is John?' Lestrade mumbled as he sits down next to Sherlock.

'Badly concussed I suspect. He's having a CT scan done as we speak but he was conscious when we came in. Very confused but conscious, so that probably means he'll make it. He was in a lot of pain though. I should have made sure I was there. I knew she was hurting him and it's been escalating.' Sherlock stated, head bowed in guilt.

'Poor John. How long has it been going on?' Lestrade asked concern clearly spread across his face. He liked John and he knew that the doctor almost certainly had been hesitant to reveal the abuse. The man was hopelessly prone to neglecting his own safety.

'Months. They'd only been going out for a month the first time he admitted it to me. After that he grew more secretive. It probably happened a lot more often than I was able to discover it. She was clever. She tended to avoid his face but I know things were getting worse. She cut him with a scalpel less than two weeks ago. Today was just the worst in a series of bad incidents. Lestrade, she broke a bottle of wine over his head and then proceeded to cut him with it. He was in such a state. Tell me you are putting her away for this.' Sherlock demanded and Lestrade nodded solemnly.

'I doubt we can get her for attempted murder but certainly on abuse charges. What's her name?' he said with sadness in his voice.

'Laura. I don't know her surname but she works in the food department of Selfridges, comes from an abusive family and has two cats.' Sherlock supplies and at that point their conversation is ended as John is wheeled back in and placed in a treatment room to deal with the cuts on his arms. He is decidedly groggy but conscious and Sherlock assumes that the fact that he has been wheeled back to A&E rather than rushed off to surgery must mean that the head wound is not life threatening.

'How are you feeling?' Lestrade asks gently

'Head's fuzzy but I'm drugged up so it doesn't hurt any more.' John mumbles tiredly as the doctor removes the bandages from his arms and carefully cleans and stitches them. 'What are you doing here?' John asks Lestrade with a puzzled frown.

'Well someone reported an attempted murder. That is my division, and since I had a vested interest in seeing the victim safe I came in person.' Lestrade teased.

'Not attempted murder. Just a messy breakup.' John tried to argue and Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes.

'She hit you over the head with a bottle, that's a bit more than a messy breakup.' Lestrade says stepping closer to John.

John shakes his head but winces at the pain this elicits. 'She was upset.' John tries to play down the incident but his words are rather nullified by the fact that he immediately snatches the emesis bowl from the tray next to him and gags into it bringing up nothing but stomach acid. 'I hate concussions.' He mumbles weakly and Sherlock and Lestrade exchange worried looks.

'She's been beating you up for months. You should have reported it that first time she hit you.' Sherlock scolds.

'Are you saying this is my fault for not running to the police when I get slapped.' John says with a hint of anger in his slurred words.

'No one is saying this is your fault John.' The doctor interjected with a stern glare at Sherlock.

'Definitely not.' Lestrade agrees. 'But you should report her or she'll go on to do this to someone else. Maybe someone who isn't as strong as you and don't have the courage to leave her.'

John nods slowly 'I know. I just want her to get help, she's not well.' John continues his defence of his ex girlfriend.

'Right now the more pressing concern is getting you help, and that means getting a restraining order.' Lestrade offers 'and I will get someone to arrest her and we can deal with specific charges and punishments after I know she's not able to cause you further harm. I know someone who will never forgive me if I didn't ensure that you're safe.'

Sherlock has grown unusually quiet as he watches the stitches being put into John's skin. 'I'm sorry John.' He finally says at which John waves a dismissive hand in the air.

'It's not your fault Sherlock.' He whispers but it is obvious that he is beginning to flag, struggling to keep his eyes open.

'But I knew, I've known for months and I did nothing to stop her.' There is genuine upset in Sherlock's voice and the doctor gives him a thoughtful look as he wraps John's stitched up arms with gauze. Sherlock feels the man's judgement burning into his skin.

'Not your job.' John mumbles eyes closed.

'But it is, keeping you safe is my job.' Sherlock argues and Lestrade places a careful hand on his shoulder.

'Blaming yourself won't help John. Let him rest and I will go and arrest this girlfriend of his. You definitely need to clean up' Lestrade urges.

'Ex girlfriend.' Sherlock corrects 'And I'm not going anywhere. Mycroft or Mrs Hudson can bring me some clothes


	9. Chapter 9

When Lestrade returns to the hospital early the next morning he finds Sherlock curled up in a chair watching John sleep. The room is unexpected. The bed is the normal adjustable metal contraption familiar from all NHS rooms. Everything else is inexplicably extravagant. The chair Sherlock is sitting in actually looks comfortable, beside him is a low table with a laptop wired up to the internet via cable. The artwork on the wall looks genuine and on the table by the window sit a very tasteful flower arrangement and a stack of books, magazines and DVDs. The pillows look thick and fluffy and the blanket covering John is not the threadbare cotton Lestrade remembers from his own stints in hospital but rather wonderfully soft cashmere. This room smelled of money, in fact it quite literally did, it didn't smell of antiseptic and sick but of cinnamon and something more floral that might be emanating from the floral arrangement.

'How'd you manage this then?' Lestrade asked in a low voice as he approached the bed.

'My brother has connections.' Sherlock explained with a shrug.

'Have I met him?' Lestrade asked inquisitively.

'I seriously hope not' came Sherlock's swift reply.

'Right how is John?' Lestrade asked indicating the sleeping body in the bed.

'He's badly concussed and his arms are likely to scar but all in all it could have been a lot worse.

'Is that the reason for the thingy' Lestrade asked indicated the tube coming out of John's head.

'It regulates the pressure inside his skull. If unaided it may cause pressure to build and serve to kill him. So you see Attempted murder is not too harsh a term to use.

'I'm sorry Sherlock but I don't think we'll even get her for abuse. The whole ting's turned very ugly.' Lestrade turned decidedly crimson as he delivered the bad news.

'What do you mean. It's an open and shut case.' Sherlock argued anger written plainly across his features.

'She's claiming self defense and Sherlock you should see her bruises. Lestrade looked honestly apologetic.

'No, John would never, you know that.' Sherlock argued sounding suddenly angry'

'I'm not saying I believe her but the level of bruising she has will convince any jury and that is all that matters. Are you sure he never fought back. He never hit her?'

'Of course not' Sherlock all but shouted.

'I did once.' John admitted weakly. 'About a month ago, she hit me really hard and I slapped her. I didn't mean to, it was pure reflex but I did.'

'I wish you hadn't told me that. It certainly isn't the reason for her bruises now. You didn't hit her last night, did you? Lestrade asked seriously.

'I didn't touch her.' John offered weakly. His face was ghostly pale and Lestrade had little doubt that what he claimed was true.

'Someone has beaten her up rather spectacularly but I doubt it was you.' Lestrade admitted hesitantly.

'I… I wouldn't…' John argued, growing pale even as he tried to defend himself.

John's breath grew increasingly ragged as he gasped and wheezed. 'John calm down. Just breathe for me.' Lestrade urged as John gasped, turning a rather spectacular shade of blue.

'I… didn't' John gasped and Lestrade had little doubt that he was being honest.

'John I believe you, just calm down, breathe… it's alright.' Lestrade urged, placing a gentle hand on John's arm.

Sherlock approached John, carefully grasping his hand. 'John would never hurt her and you know that. He argued and Lestrade nodded.

'I may know it but that doesn't change the fact that she looks like someone gave her a thorough beating and she claims it was John who did it.

'That's ridiculous, she's the one who's abusive, not John.' Sherlock all but shouted.

'John, Sherlock suggests that this has been going on for some time. Have you got any pictures, any evidence that she's been hurting you?' Lestrade asked visually directing the question to Sherlock as well with a nod of the head.

'Lestrade, if your wife hit you would you be taking photographs of it for posterity?' John asked calmly and Lestrade had to admit that no, he probably wouldn't, in fact he would do anything in his power to avoid anyone finding out, which probably gave him some idea of how John was feeling at the moment.

Hesitating Lestrade looks down at John with trepidation 'Does it hurt?' he asks, a hand hovering above John's bandaged arms.

'Yes, not that badly though.' John whispers.

'He wouldn't say that if it wasn't for the morphine.' Sherlock explains.

'S'fine' John mumbles and Lestrade watches as he slips off to sleep.

'For the record, what's the actual verdict?' he asks Sherlock seriously.

'Seriously concussed including minor swelling of the temporal lobe and cuts on his arms resulting in non life threatening blood loss which will almost certainly result in scarring' Sherlock stated with a calm that belied his true emotions.

'Sherlock, I know this is an odd thing to ask but you didn't by any chance take pictures of any of the previous times Laura hurt him?' Lestrade asked and Sherlock stared at him in confusion.

'It's just well, she does have pictures, they're not dated which is good for us but she does have them.'

Sherlock blinks incredulously at Lestrade.

'Do you really think John would have allowed me to photograph the evidence that he was being beaten up by his girlfriend?' He asks calmly and Lestrade can only admit that no, that was probably a vain hope.

'I'm sorry to say that in that case John might be in a spot of trouble. I'm not saying I believe her but she has photographs and records from two different walk in surgeries to back her up.' Lestrade delivers the unhappy news.

'It's her father. John told me, her father has been abusing her and her mother since childhood, John told me. Surely there has to be records from before she met John to prove it.' Sherlock questions.

'If we can find them.' Lestrade nods hopefully.

'Mycroft will find them.' Sherlock says confidently.

'Who's Mycroft?' Lestrade questions.

'My brother.' Is Sherlocks simple explanation.

'Your brother who can procure evidence whether or not it exists and who is capable of arranging a very posh single bedroom in a hospital with a bed shortage… I'm not sure if I really want to meet your brother or if I want to make sure I never meet him in my life.' Lestrade ponders.

'Almost certainly the latter.' Sherlock promises but Lestrade is not entirely convinced. After all, he is very fond of Sherlock, how bad could this potential brother really be.


End file.
